WE WERE FIVE MEN PLAYING draw poker.
“Ante up, gentlemen,” said R. “Nickel apiece.”
The cards went round once, twice, thrice.
B coughed. T took a sip of his Cuba Libre.
R sent the cards round again. And again.
We lifted our hands.
“Oh! Ghawd! Damn!” said K. “I’m betting TWENTY BUCKS!”
“Fold.” “Fold.” “Fold.” “You idiot.”
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Author: Neal Ross Attinson
Neal Ross Attinson is one of those text-compulsives who feels naked without a keyboard, or at least a a pad and pen. He is unafraid of adverbs, loves astronomy and gastronomy with equally unabashed passion, and lives with/in an eclectic library in Sonoma, California.
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Funny! I laughed out loud when you told me the story and yet it *still* took me by surprise and I laughed out loud when I read the story. Good one, Neal. Nice bit of memory-share, too.
Thank you — I was fiddling with the concise:funny ratio a bit, and you know how THAT is …
I hated it when spud bought the pot.
That’s why he was there.